something is very off today. and i don’t know, i think it initially started all the way back with me waking up feeling uber wonky sunday morning. i’ve been just slightly off ever since.
battlestar and cupcakes and comics aren’t really helping at this point in time. the finale didn’t even feel like a finale and nothing was resolved — also: nobody fucks with jimi hendrix and gets away with it (the more i think about the music in the finale the more i hope bear mccreary goes off and chokes on a dick). cupcakes are only really fun for a while, ultimately i am not that much of a fan of frosting and their makeup makes it so that they don’t really “store” well, not without mushing up frosting and sprinkles and such. and i’ve already plowed through all the issues of battle pope that i bought and re-read both books of the maxx and am thus without anything to read on my daily commute to work.
also, i totally hauled ass into work mad early to setup for a meeting that got canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. so, tomorrow i haul ass in early again…woo…
meh.
just…meh.
instead of focusing on all the things that are seriously falling apart around me, i’m distracting myself with sundry issues. but mainly the problem is, i’m poor. or just poor enough that i’m wondering if i ever will really and truly recover from the whole moving-out-of-hellish-apartment debacle with more than $5.00 to my name. upcoming travels and summer plans are bogging me down already and it’s only march, fucking march! can you believe that? how sad is that? i’m already freaked out about what i’m going to do for money in july and it’s fucking march…april in a week and by then i’ll probably be having an aneurysm over everything.
i’m playing this game of catch-up that just never seems to end. a day late and a motherfuckin’ dollar short — story of my fucking life, son. it’s so hard to be sparkly cool when you’re stressin’ something so…trivial. insubstantial. transient.
it’s money. fucking money, and that’s all. not who i am, not what i’m about, not even a big part of my life…but i’m totally controlled by it in some ways.
what i can or cannot payoff, where i can or cannot go, what i can or cannot do, what i do or do not have.
first off on the list of shit i can’t do/have/etc.: car stereo installation & kickball.
le fucking sigh.
ETA: fuck it all, man. i’m going to play fucking kickball no matter what. gym membership be damned, i’ll just be the world’s fattest kickball player…
meaning: nothing has changed.